


Of Turtlenecks & Gingersnaps

by cocaine_cookie



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Armitage Hux is So Done, But it's platonic - Freeform, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Office Party! AU, Poe is a flirt, Side Reylo, Side Rose/Finn, Slow Dancing, masquerade! AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocaine_cookie/pseuds/cocaine_cookie
Summary: In which Hux is continuously irked by the unreasonably attractive Poe Dameron from rival company the Resistance during an office party. But unknown to them, they end up being selected as each other's dance partners.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	Of Turtlenecks & Gingersnaps

Christ, who invited them? Hux’s mask — plain black with only a smattering of golden glitter (he refused to be any more elaborate for such an inane affair) — shifted up as he sneered, nose scrunching. 

Said innocent people he was currently attacking were starting to stream in through the large office-turned-dancefloor’s grey-tinted glass doors one by one, all brimming with irritating nervous, excited energy and boisterous laughter that seemed to be a trademark of all employees under the Resistance. Just thinking of the name left an unfavourable bitter taste in his mouth, which was saying a lot as Hux preferred his coffee blacker than black. 

The Resistance. A rookie publishing company that had started with such humble beginnings they were practically bankrupt from day one, with nothing but a handful of manuscripts being sent to them by desperate author-wannabes. Hux had never even heard of them until they had clawed quite literally from the depths of hell after churning out the bestselling fantasy slash romance fiction novel (cue shudder of revulsion) Around Hosnian. After that one success, they were suddenly “renowned”, “excellent”, “reliable”; More authors began flocking to them for proofreading, so much so that Snoke had been in a crap mood for weeks, bearing down hard on Hux to search for the next big thing and bump the First Order to the top again. 

Funny how endless sleepless nights could easily be outshone by a bunch of happy-go-lucky editors with a pen and a highlighter. They probably read for fun. Probably went to work in those stupid hipster beanies and round glasses that made them look like vapid owls and sat around sipping fucking tea and—

His boss, Snoke, warmly welcomed them in with mugs of hot chocolate.

Hux blinked. Looked at the glass of cider in his hand. He hadn’t drunk that much already, had he?

“You can shut that mouth of yours, Armitage. Your pretty jawline has practically disappeared.” Turning his head sharply with a retort already on his tongue, Hux simply rolled his eyes instead when he saw who it was. His (barely tolerable) coworker, Phasma, slid onto the couch beside him, muscular legs criss-crossing. A metallic silver mask shielded her features. 

“What the fuck are those twiddling idiots doing on our property?” 

“I assume you haven’t heard.” Hux frowned. “What?”

“Snoke is planning on merging the Resistance and the First Order. Claims it’ll be better for profits.” Hux nearly spat his cider out, managing to press his lips together in time. He swallowed. 

“Better how, exactly?!” 

“Technically, they produce less bestselling books, yes, but the books they produce fly off the shelves for months. We may have more critically acclaimed authors on our side, sure, but reputation can only go so far. Hence, fifty-fifty profits.” 

“Well. Fuck.”

Hux sat back, reeling. He hadn’t even considered that Snoke, of all egotistical people, would have entertained thoughts of contacting his bitter rivals, much less forging ahead with a bloody joint alliance. It seemed rather irrelevant amidst this flabbergasting news but Hux couldn’t help but feel a little stung that Snoke hadn’t even bothered to consult him, or even more pathetically, inform him face to face. 

“So, better play nice eh?” Phasma smirked somewhat foxily and Hux choked as she tossed a wink toward a short, bumbling man with a neon yellow mask. He looked taken aback, a hand self-consciously reaching up to scratch the scruff of his neck.

“Stop— stop fraternizing with the enemy!” Hux puffed out, cheeks reddening. 

Phasma snorted. “Why not? They certainly don’t seem to have any qualms doing so, judging by the way that man keeps staring at you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nonetheless, Hux couldn’t stop his eyes from immediately darting around the room. 

Before Phasma could reply, his gaze landed on a figure that didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the woolly sweater-wearing Resistance crowd. Hux conducted a split-second once-over. 

He hated that his mouth actually went dry. 

The man wore dark denim jeans, which were nothing special, but as Hux’s eyes crept further up, a black turtleneck was revealed. It wasn’t skintight, but was enough to hug the man’s muscular frame just right. His collar skimmed an angular jaw. Bronze skin. A hint of stubble. A set of maroon lips pursed in a straight line, betraying his self-assuredness but wariness. Hux’s eyes lingered on a dimple that formed in his cheek and cursed himself for letting adorable cross his mind. Obscuring the rest of his identity was a matte white mask, a stark contrast to his black one, with delicate amber whorls at the sides. Curls lay messily across his forehead. 

Oh, and the man was conveniently staring right back at Hux shamelessly as well. 

A few seconds passed. Hux was rather impressed. Most people would have flinched under his stare by now. Perhaps the mask had ruined the effect.

Hux didn’t back down. Let him stare. See if he cared. 

“I hadn’t realized you’d both progressed to eye fucking already.” Phasma mused.

Hux swiped a glass of whisky from a passing server’s tray and necked it, never once breaking eye contact. “I’m merely asserting my dominance.” 

“Assert your dominance with a little less drool please.” 

The man finally ducked his head and looked away, but not without a small grin beforehand. Triumphant, Hux relaxed slightly, though he wondered why his heart was still thumping abnormally fast. The alcohol. Yes. It must be the alcohol messing with his system. 

Minutes passed and Phasma eventually got up and wandered off to simultaneously seduce and intimidate some poor sod after failing to get Hux to follow. He was perfectly fine staying put drinking the expensive whisky and observing the crowd with varying degrees of judgment. A hulking man with shaggy black hair and a red mask allowing himself to be dragged to the dessert table by an animated, spritely girl dressed in monochrome blue caught his attention. He watched as she plunged a stick into a stack of strawberries and stabbed it rather aggressively into the chocolate fountain before turning to the pouting manchild with a blinding beam, presumably to urge him to do the same. 

Hux had assumed he would have told her to fuck right off but was surprised when the man obliged and hesitantly dipped a fruit into the chocolate. 

The girl’s smile widened, if that was possible. Hux internally groaned. Puppy love. Doomed to meet with a tragic separation under the rain after one’s dog was run over by another’s car or some shite like that. 

Yeah. He should probably stop drinking. 

“Are you gonna stare at my friends Rey and Solo all night?”

The alcohol had slowed his cognitive abilities, and it took Hux a full three seconds to register that Turtleneck was suddenly seated in close proximity to him. And speaking in a low, rather attractive drawl. Mm. Shut the fuck up, brain. 

“Woah, my name’s Poe, not Bran, and I’ve barely said a thing. Is Bran short for Brandon?” He was teasing Hux. He felt his face flush. God, the guy was the chatterbox sort. He really couldn’t have everything, could he. 

“I wasn’t staring. Just wondering why you lot think you can just march in here and act like you own the place.” 

Turtleneck didn’t seem fazed. Hux wasn’t quite sure if that was fortunate for him or not. 

“Wow, it’s obvious you’re having a smashing time. Why’d you come? To lighten the mood?”

“It’s company decorum to attend all official events. No matter how useless.” The last bit was a mutter, but Turtleneck had sharp ears. He obviously wasn’t stupid either. Hux sort of wished he were. 

Turtleneck held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, point taken, point taken, chill out, robocop.” 

“It’s called discipline.” Hux was mildly offended when Turtleneck bit his lip, as though to hold back a laugh. Hux noted the way his eyes creased. They were nice eyes, though under the dim lights, he couldn’t tell what shade they were. “What’s so funny?” 

“You sure you’re not pursuing the wrong career?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Being in the military would’ve suited you better.” Turtleneck ran a hand through his thick, curly hair and leaned back, flashing his strong jaw yet again. “Perfect posture, gelled hair, stick up your ass—” Hux cleared his throat. 

“You’d have done better being a clown for children’s parties as well.” Hux sniped, immediately regretting it. God, he’d truly stooped to such juvenile playground insults in a span of five minutes. It just didn’t suit him. Turtleneck seemed to think the same, huffing another laugh and focussing that same oddly intense look on Hux again. 

“Nah, they wouldn’t have been able to handle my overwhelming charms even under all that face paint.” Hux snorted. He was serious, wasn’t he? Turtleneck was turning out to be quite the insufferable buffoon. 

“What do you read?” Turtleneck asked. Well. Since he was intent on keeping up this directionless conversation, Hux didn’t have the energy to refute his attempts. He would entertain him until the party was over and he could finally fucking go home. All he wanted to do was curl up in his silk bedspread and sleep with Millicent his ginger fluff ball warming his feet. 

“Non-fiction.” 

Turtleneck suddenly straightened his back until his broad chest puffed out. “NoN-FiCtIoN.” He mimicked in Hux’s heavy Irish accent, smacking his lips. “Good stuff ah must say.”

Hux huffed, but he couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. The alcohol, he reminded himself. The alcohol was strong as hell. 

“It’s okay, you can laugh.” Turtleneck grinned. Hux quickly resuming his normal stoic expression, refusing to give him the satisfaction. 

“I’m willing to bet you’re much more attractive when you smile.” 

“Why would I want to attract someone like you?”

“And what’s someone like me?” Turtleneck sidled closer. Brown. His eyes were warm fucking brown like his drink. Hux tried not to get lost. 

What was he? A poet now? 

“Give it a rest. You’re not my type.” Hux wasn’t even sure he even had a type. But Turtleneck probably wasn’t that far off from it given how his pulse had picked up again. 

“And what’s your type?” Hux swallowed. He had walked right into that one. He swore the man’s eyes flickered down to his mouth. Was there whiskey at the corners of it? A bit self-consciously, Hux quickly licked the edge, tasting a bit of sweetness. The man was definitely staring now, rather shamelessly. Mission fucking abort. 

“Definitely not unprofessional men who’ve never had to work hard to actually deserve their success.” 

This time, Hux sensed a stiffening in Turtleneck’s relaxed stance. Oh, he had definitely stomped on a sore point. 

“And you have enough credibility and evidence to insult our work ethic how?” There was a bite behind his smooth voice. Hux wasn’t about to jumpstart his explanation anytime soon. It was a long one, and he wasn’t sure if he would last halfway through without a punch to the face. “The way you lot carry yourselves is rather telling already.” 

“What on Earth does that mean?’ 

“You’re all too… relaxed. No one who has had to work hard to get to where they are can be so ignorantly unbothered.”

“Sounds to me you’re just jealous.” 

“Jealous?” Hux wanted to slap him and wipe that all-knowing smirk on his annoying face. “There’s nothing to be jealous of unless I desired a lack of integrity.”

“Lack of integrity? What’s this aimed at now?” 

“Hm…” Hux pretended to consider. “Maybe at how you lot managed to bribe Kenobi into sending you all his work instead of to the First Order?” 

Turtleneck adjusted his mask. Hux wanted to rip it off. “You seriously think we did that?” 

“Why else would he have sent it to the Resistance and not us?”

“Maybe because you lot are terrible at being unbiased regarding fiction novels?” 

“That’s preposterous.” Hux was sure the man raised his eyebrow under his mask. 

“We work fair and square. You have no idea how much we had to overcome.” 

“Oh, you mean after your first manuscript’s instant global success? Plenty of hardship, I bet.” 

“This isn’t a competition.” Turtleneck carded a hand through his curls. 

“It certainly could be.” Hux sniffed and looked toward the dancefloor, where Resistance employees were flinging their limbs about in a poor imitation of dancing. Rey and Solomon- Solo, was it? Were doing this ridiculous step-shuffle type thing and looking exceptionately stupid. “You lot could seriously use a social etiquette course. Maybe consider it for your next team-bonding exercise?”

“Well, forgive us for having fun. I think I’ll leave you to yours.” Turtleneck got up swiftly and walked off without so much as a backward glance. 

Well. Hux got up too and squeezed his way through the crowd of mingling First Order and Resistance employees to find Phasma and retrieve the car keys she had confiscated to prevent his escape.

He’d had enough of this festive bullshit and crappy company. 

As he scanned around for Phasma, he couldn’t help but find Turtleneck in his line of vision yet again. He was now talking to another similarly muscular man, their heads together, and Hux noted the arm sneaking around Turtleneck’s waist. Hux snorted. Turtleneck was probably reusing all his flirty lines. Something low and unpleasant flared in his gut. 

It was the alcohol. It must have been. 

“Who were you talking to just now?” Finn asked, as Poe marched over to him, head full of steam. 

Who did that presumptuous, redheaded asshole think he was? To think Poe had even gone to such lengths to chat him up. He had liked the man’s long, lean legs and sharp features, had found his coiff of golden-orange hair rather handsome on him. But his personality was supremely lacking, and Poe could have kicked himself for mistaking Mr Gingersnap’s icy rudeness for playing hard to get. 

Strange. His asshole radar was usually more reliable. 

“Some guy. Wasn’t worth my time though.” 

“Ah.” Finn patted his shoulder. “Shame. He’s quite the looker.” 

“Hadn’t noticed.” This earned Poe a funny look. 

“He’s looking at you, you know.” 

Poe craned his neck. Sure enough, Gingersnap was looking at the pair of them, mouth grimly pursed. Had the man smiled before in his life? He doubted it. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand at his waist. He looked at Finn quizzically. “What are you doing?” 

“Getting a rise out of him in three… Two… One.” 

Sure enough, when Poe glanced back once more, Gingersnap had walked in the opposite direction to the toilets. Interesting. A bubble of laughter emerged from Finn. “He’s a whipped man.” 

“Who could resist me?” Poe joked, earning a whack to his shoulder. “But no, I highly doubt he’s interested. He’d probably prefer a mirror as a first date.” 

“Seems like a typical First Order male to me.” Finn snorted. “All of them are incredibly hard to talk to.” 

“I’m sorry we give off that impression.”

Poe damn near jumped out of his skin. A short, wiry man with the same gelled hair as Gingersnap stood at their side, a blank expression on his face. The bobble atop his two sizes too big Santa Claus hat flopped onto his face, and the man rather sassily flung his head this way and that to flip it away. His hands tightly gripped a stack of cards.

Finn was equally unnerved. “Sorry, mate. Ah, how may we help you?” 

Silently, two shiny cards were handed to them. Poe flipped his and was confused. ARMITAGE HUX was embossed in fancy gold font. Armitage who now? What kind of a last name was Hux? Was this a book character?

“Who’s Rose Tico?” Finn asked. 

“These will be your partners for the dance later. Everyone’s going to pair up.” The man whispered. Then, inclining his head, he slowly backed away, uttering “The name’s Mitaka, Dopheld Mitaka” before vanishing into the crowd. 

“How are we supposed to find them?” Poe shrugged. “We’ll just see who’s available I guess.”  
“Smart. Want to get some food and join Rey and Ben?” 

Poe nodded, and the pair made their way over to the couple. This time, Mrs Organa was with them, chiding them gently as they crammed gingerbread cookies into each other’s mouths. 

“Gracious, however did I raise you?” She shook her head in both endearment and disgust, stepping back to avoid a spray of crumbs. 

“Who did you guys get for the dance?” Poe picked up a sugar cookie and a glass of wine, biting and sipping before making a face. Yeah, that was a pretty nasty combination. Discreetly picking up a napkin, he spat the goo inside. 

“Shum Tarfkeen doo.” Rey spoke through a mouthful of cookie. 

“You said you’d dance with me.” Poe could hear the sulk in Ben’s voice and tried not roll his eyes. The man could not be more obvious. 

“But—” 

“She’s dancing with me.” 

“Ookay.” Finn laughed uneasily, eyes darting between the pair of them. Rey shrugged. Ben bit the head off a gingerbread man. Mrs Organa looked as though she were planning the baby shower already. 

“Ooh, look! Snoke’s about to speak!” Rey pointed out suddenly. Sure enough, a tall, gangly figure had made his way to the front of the room and now stood rather imperiously on an elevated platform. 

“He gives me the creeps.” Rey nudged his arm and Poe promptly shut up. 

“I hope everyone’s enjoying themselves on this wonderful night.” Snoke’s voice was chilly and oily at the same time. Poe disliked it immensely. “Christmas is a time for people to come together, to indulge in friendships. No doubt, we have had our differences, but perhaps it is time we finally reconcile and use our talents for a better literary future, yes?” 

A few murmurs of assent from the crowd. Poe scoffed. An economic-driven future more like.

“Well, without further ado, let the dancing commence!” 

Around them, people began calling out names, and laughing somewhat awkwardly when they spotted their assigned partners. The air was filled with anticipation, and hopes of meeting someone new. Someone interesting. Christmas certainly made one feel like finding love, Poe reflected, amused as a short Asian woman wandered up to Finn and hesitantly tapped his shoulder. Biting back a laugh, Poe watched as Finn panicked and held out his hand for a fistbump. Nonplussed, the woman bumped her fist against his and doubled over giggling.Yeah, they would get along fine. 

But Poe still didn’t know who Armitage Hux was, and he didn’t exactly feel like calling him out now that the music (a slow, techno love song) had started up and the crowd had quietened. Ben currently had his hands on Rey’s hips and Mrs Organa was getting rather smarmy with a rugged-looking man in an actual cowboy outfit, complete with a hat and everything. Shit. Poe needed some bleach for his eyes, and fast. 

Trying to edge his way out of the crowd to wait in the toilet, Poe muttered hurried apologies as he stepped on a few toes. He was nearly at the toilet’s entrance when the Christmas angels up there must have decided it was time to declare a big fuck you, for the one and only Gingersnap was planted in his way. 

With his mask off. 

Poe nearly tripped over himself. His asshole radar may have been faulty tonight, but his hottie one was pinging like a lightsaber on crack, if that made sense. He was right. Finn was right. Gingersnap was a whole three course meal. 

A pair of incredibly pale blue eyes bore into his and for the first time in a long time, Poe was struck dumb. He let out a loud wolf whistle instead, delighting in how the man slowly turned pink to the tips of his ears. 

“It’s you again.” Gingersnap stated flatly. 

“It’s me again.” 

“I thought you’d be stomping round the dancefloor with your unfortunate partner by now.” 

“So you have thought of me.” Poe winked.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Gingersnap scowled, but Poe noted how his alabaster skin was still tinged red. Interesting.

“Why aren’t you showing off your dancing prowess then? This too beneath you?” He joked.

“I couldn’t find my partner and didn’t bother looking. You?” 

“Same. I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen his name either, he must be part of your lot.” 

Gingersnap leaned against the wall. Poe followed suit and realized Gingersnap was about two inches taller. “I can help you identify him. Maybe you’ll leave me alone then.” 

Poe huffed. “I think I’m fine here, thanks. You’re not still mad at me over my company, are you?” 

Gingersnap made a noncommittal sound. “My colleague has convinced me not to waste my time being petty.” He nodded in the direction of a woman with a silver mask and cropped blonde hair towering over (Poe squinted) Dopheld Mitaka. What a sight. “Well, at least one of you is wise.” 

Coloured lights swept across the room as the music picked up the pace. Poe couldn’t help but appreciate how the blue light cast on Gingersnap’s cheekbones and left shadows in a rather flattering way. A catchy beat pulsed, and Poe found himself bopping along. For some reason, he was in a chipper mood than before. 

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t seem to hate your guts anymore, a nagging voice singsonged. Whatever. He’s still a prick. 

“Come on, you should move a bit. You’re rather stiff.” Poe poked at his stomach, and was surprised to find it toned. Gingersnap didn’t give the impression of someone who worked out. 

He didn’t budge, glaring resolutely at everyone else swaying and having a good time. “I’m fine not making a fool out of myself, thank you very much.”

Perhaps for anyone else, they would have just walked off in order not to have their good spirits dampened any further by this unpleasant man. But Poe felt a strange compulsion to stay, and stay he did. Sneaking yet another glance at him, Poe caught a glint of wistfulness in the man’s eyes. Perhaps he was just shy. 

Now this thought made Poe feel all sorts of things. Not pity, no, but he felt a kind of understanding. He knew what it was like to feel excluded and then not be able to make the first move to be in on what everyone else was doing. God knew that when he had first joined Mrs Organa’s motley crew of editors, he had relied on being overly loud and shameless to begin talking to his colleagues in order for them to grow used to his presence and not see how awkward he actually was when spoken to alone. 

Perhaps it was the wine making him overthink. 

Yeah. It’s the wine, Poe thought, as he placed his hands on Gingersnap’s shoulders. 

Hux’s first instinct was to bat him away and knock his nose hard with his fist, but instead, he found himself being drawn closer, steered by two large hands on his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure if his voice was even audible. 

“Put your hands on my hips.” It wasn’t so much a statement as it was a command, and goddamnit, Hux tried hard to hate it. 

“We are not going to dance outside the toi—” 

“Just shut up and do it.” Their bodies were almost flush together now, with Hux’s back against the wall. He had to tilt his head down a fraction to look at Turtleneck, and was pretty much floored as he was met with those warm, insistent brown eyes again. He wanted that mask off badly, wanted to see more. 

Fuck it. 

Hesitantly, he put his hands on Turtleneck’s hips, fingers squeezing gently. The latter’s eyes glittered. Hux had never held anyone this way before, never been held this way, and he was still in fight or flight mode, every muscle in his body tense and ready to spring. 

Then they were moving together with the beat. It was more of stepping side to side and nodding their heads a little, but after a while, Hux wasn’t entirely… averse to it. It was rather engaging, actually. Turtleneck was pretty groovy, and Hux found himself trying to imitate the way he cocked his head from side to side. 

“You look like a prince.” Turtleneck suddenly said, before making to rest his chin on Hux's shoulder as the song ended. 

Hux choked with virtually nothing in his windpipe, if that was even possible.

Turtleneck must have sensed him backing up a little, for he immediately withdrew. “Too much? Sorry, I’ve been told I have no sense of personal space sometimes.” He apologized and grinned sheepishly, taking away one hand from Hux’s shoulder to run his hand through his hair. Was it a nervous habit? It was getting harder and harder to be annoyed with this man. 

“Sometimes?” Hux cleared his throat and looked away. Phasma had stopped dancing with poor Mitaka, and was staring right at him and Turtleneck. Even from a distance away, Hux could make out the huge smirk on her face and he wanted to wipe it clean off. 

Turtleneck didn’t rest his head under Hux’s chin again.

They stood there like that for some time. The song changed three times, and Hux could sense the night drawing to a close when Snoke finally announced that the last song was coming up soon. 

“Suppose we better make this count then.” 

The beat dropped, and Hux realized two things. One: They didn’t know each other’s names. Two: He really wanted to know what kind of kisser Turtleneck was. 

“Something on my mouth?” Hux lifted his eyes quickly. Turtleneck was, again, looking at him with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. Oh he knew he was attractive all right. How utterly obnoxious. 

“Why don’t we see if you can still be so cocky with your mask off.” Hux said, bolder than he had been the entire night. 

“You do it for me. I don’t wanna—” Turtleneck raised his elbows, indicating his hands. “Don’t wanna take my hands off.” 

That was permission enough he supposed. Hux reached for the bands tying the mask securely behind Turtleneck’s ears and untucked it, trying not to think too much about the way Turtleneck seemed to tense involuntarily when his fingers unintentionally grazed his skin. 

The mask came off. 

Oh for fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t he have been ugly? 

“Like what you see?”

“You’re not too bad.” Hux was quite a fan of understatements. 

“So I’ve been told.” Turtleneck grinned. 

Hux tucked the mask into his jean pocket and gripped his hips once more. This time, they moved more confidently together, never once breaking eye contact. Under the now violet lights, Turtleneck looked good. Better than good. 

Subtly, they inched closer together. Hux was sure he was mirroring the man’s heavy-lidded stare. A crackling energy stretched between them and the air felt heavy. He now understood why the phrase “everything melted away” was used in every single kissing scene in every fucking book ever. It was all true.

You coward. He could almost hear Phasma’s admonishment. He swallowed. 

Hux was a tough guy. He had nerves of steel. He had once told off a superior for messing up, had once personally implied that Snoke’s method of attracting authors was stupid to Snoke’s face before giving his input. Hux was many things, but a coward was definitely not on the list. 

Did he dare close the distance? Another thought followed close behind. Did he want to close the distance? 

Good thing he didn’t have to think any further. Turtleneck surged in and answered it for him. 

Poe was shocked when he planted one on Gingersnap, not expecting to be met with a set of soft and pliant lips. They didn’t belong to his hard exterior. 

Gingersnap pulled away, but Poe found himself chasing him and slanting his own mouth to his once more. 

The man tasted like whiskey, the expensive sort, and he kissed well, which made Poe wonder if he’d kissed anyone before him. The image perturbed him, and Poe broke away. Gingersnap looked down at him, lips redder than red. They were both breathing hard by now, and his hand was still in Poe’s hair. Fireworks couldn’t have held a damn candle to what Poe was feeling. 

“So—”

“That was unexpected.” 

“Yes.” Gingersnap took his hand out of his hair and flexed his fingers out before shoving it into his suit pocket quickly. 

Nobody seemed to have noticed them. Everyone was roaming around, packing up, looking for their belongings and grabbing the last bits of dessert. Funny how Poe had wanted the evening to end quickly before arriving. Now, he never wanted the party to end, wanted to stay outside the toilets and kiss a certain sarcastic redhead for a few seconds more. 

“I guess the party’s over.” They looked everywhere but at each other. Poe wondered if Gingersnap was regretting this rather major life decision. Funny how Christmas had seemed to be working it’s magic before taking it away.

“It seems that way, yes.” 

“I’ll see you at work starting Monday, I suppose.” Poe took his mask out of his pocket and fiddled with it. He noted how Gingersnap’s hair was looser and messier somehow, making him seem more laidback, and, if possible, even more good looking. His eyes seemed rather unfocused too, as if he had just woken up. Poe wondered if the kiss had leached the tension out of him. 

“I’ll… see you around?” 

“Listen,” Gingersnap said haltingly. Poe felt his heart drop. “What happened was pure physical attraction. It didn’t mean anything, am I right?”

A pause. Poe wondered what the both of them were waiting for. Wasn’t sure what answer Gingersnap wanted.

“I s’pose.” 

Poe noted how his shoulders seemed to slump. A terse nod. Then he was gone, hands burrowed in his pockets. 

Poe felt something tug in his chest.

He supposed he should go look for Finn now.

As he walked away however, he noticed a card on the floor. Was it Gingersnap’s? Poe picked it up, flipped it, and there it was in fancy gold font.

POE DAMERON.

Poe had never speed-walked quite so fast in his life. 

He broke into a jog and rammed through the glass doors, trying to spot a certain tall man with golden orange hair amidst the people milling around for the afterparty happening at the bar nearby. 

Poe finally spotted him beside the stairwell, presumably waiting for his blonde colleague. 

“Hey!” Gingersnap looked up from his phone at Poe, perplexed. Was Poe turning into the ultimate sap or was he imagining the spark of hope in his eyes? “I think you dropped this.”

The man’s brows furrowed together as Poe mutedly passed him the card.

“Uh, thank you?” 

Poe had the urge to kiss away his serious expression. Instead, he opted for “Armitage Hux suits you.” 

“Poe Dameron.” The name was odd rolling off Hux’s tongue. It seemed like the sort of name in those choose-your-adventure books, those Indiana Jones type things. “I suppose it suits you too. Sort of short, like your height.” 

“Oi!” Poe pushed at Hux’s shoulder before stilling, mouth exaggeratedly pulling into an O. “Wait, was that a joke?” 

“I’m capable of making them, yes.” 

“It’s terrible.”

Hux scoffed. Of course the man would run all the way out and interrupt him for no reason other than to criticize his sense of humour. He was proving to be as unpredictable as his ability to make Hux temporarily lose control of his senses with his mouth. 

Yeah, that didn’t sound as savoury as he’d thought. Hux made a mental reminder never to string together complicated phrases when tipsy. 

Poe spoke up again. “I didn’t mean it just now, when I agreed us making out meant nothing more to me.”

Hux went quiet. He chose his next words carefully. “It didn’t mean nothing to me either.” 

When one had a love life as barren and sad as his, you really couldn’t fault him for treading the treacherous waters of what seemed to be commitment with as much paranoia as he was currently experiencing. But there it was, the foreign, elusive feeling Hux had been feeling the moment Poe had come running out of the office like some uncultured baboon. Hope. Hux had hoped that Poe wanted something more. 

Fuck.

Hux could have carried on his internal monologue but thank God for Poe’s grin though, which damn near combusted something in Hux’s being. For the first time that night, he didn’t think it was obnoxious at all. 

“Glad we’ve reached a consensus.” 

“Indeed.” 

Hux offered a small smile. Damn, he’d thought the necessary muscles to achieve such a feat would have been frozen for decades by now. 

They lapsed into silence again. Phasma was walking toward them, and he’d be damned if she caught him smiling with Poe like a lovestruck fool. “Well, it’s been quite a day. I should probably get going.” Hux said, a little reluctantly. 

Poe glanced at Phasma in all her eye-blazing-what-are-your-intentions-toward-my-only- friend glory and seemed to get the gist of it. He waved, and began to walk in the opposite direction, only to stop again about a meter away.

“What on Earth is it this time?” Hux groaned exasperatedly as Poe opened his mouth. 

“I would have won the bet” was the flippant reply. Then Poe winked and sauntered off, sending Hux’s insides into a washing machine spiral again. Did all Resistance employees speak in cryptic subtext? 

Hux pondered about it throughout the duration of his taxi ride, resting his head against the frosted window. He thought about it long after he had showered under scalding water, and long after he had tucked himself into bed, pulling Millicent onto his chest and stroking her bristly fur distractedly. 

It was only in the morning when he woke up, a tingling sensation in his lips that he finally understood what Poe’s farewell had meant. 

“I’m willing to bet you’re much more attractive when you smile.” 

Hux snorted. Ridiculous. Poe was just downright ridiculous. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop the warm feeling from manifesting itself throughout the day. Settling into his couch with a meowing Millicent, Hux sipped his hot cocoa with extra marshmallows and sighed in, for what seemed like ages, contentment. 

Resistance employees weren’t all that bad, he supposed. 

Outside, snow began to drift.


End file.
